


Knight of Hallownest

by JakobTheFirst



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Headcanon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22014265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JakobTheFirst/pseuds/JakobTheFirst
Summary: The final days of the City Guard.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	1. Shooting Star

**Author's Note:**

> This is the backstory of Vèrt, my second Hollow Knight oc. I try to fill the gaps in the lore as best as possible, but in the end of the day most of the ideas presented in this story are headcanon.

# Knight of Hallownest

He looked at the rest of the battalion, sitting on benches forming a circle around a small Lumafly lantern. The benches were blending into the spiked exterior of the platforms atop which they were travelling now. Each fastened atop Giant Pull Beetles, moving only slightly despite the massive animals rolling beneath them. These beasts of burden, whose kind counted among the most ancient living beings in Hallownest, were rarely ever disturbed. Yet in times of need, giant mechanical platforms were mounted on top of their backs and through masterful engineering were kept in suspension, almost motionless, while the Pull Beetles rolled themselves into giant wheels of shell that crushed beneath them fossil and rock alike. A few knights were tending to their weapons, while all of them had their eyes peeled on the Protector. He was just finishing his recollection of the last time he had punched a Garpede to death, a story that never seemed to get old because of the enthusiasm he put into his retelling and because of how ludicrously over the top some of the Five Great Knight’s feats seemed to be.

Vèrt knew better than to doubt them. He had never once seen the General of the City Guard use a weapon. And he furthermore knew that he had slain far more potent foes than Garpedes. Which was not difficult to imagine, observing the gigantic armored form that dwarfed even Vèrt. Who was quite tall himself, compared to most civilized bugs. To the left of his own , the Protector occupied one platform entirely by himself, standing tall, addressing with his booming voice all that would hear him. His entire body was covered in plate armor so thick it would require multiple bugs of Vèrt's size to even lift it. Being able to move so swiflty while wearing it suggested an immense measure of raw physical strength, especially considering the Protector never took his armor off, publically. Vèrt allowed himself to wonder for a moment what could be hiding beneath those two eye slids of the horned helmet that was completely covering the Protector's face, giving a metallic ring to every word he uttered. There was a weight to his speech that demanded respect. That was not why the guards gladly listened to him when given the chance, however. Rather, in spite of his grim appearance, the Protector was quite the skilled orator, possessing a contagious laughter and lively sense of humor. Seamlessly he had already transitioned his story into setting up contests and bets about how many foes each battalion would slay, and if any of these could match even half his own kill-count, he would personally invite them to a feast with him and the other Four. That caused quite the uproar, but Vèrt had no doubt that the Five would attend the victory celebrations anyway. If there were any, that is.

He looked past the Protector, then turned around to look to his right. In the twilight he could not quite make out how far the train of Giant Pull Beetles went. The full force of Hallownest was on the move.

Dozens of Giant Moss Chargers, entire families of small leaf dwelling bugs gathered together in a surprisingly powerful mass of twigs and leaves, rode alongside them, several Moss Knights holding onto their backs, the trained and fighting core of the Mosskin, their fluffy leaflike bodies protected by solid armor, giving their otherwise harmless appearance a striking contrast. Most of their kind begrudgingly accepted Hallownest's superiority, some going so far as to even abandon their own people to become part of it. Through a compassion that Vèrt had never truly understood, they had been granted the gift of independence, being allowed to keep most of their domain. They were free to roam the dangerous wilderness of the foilage, holding onto the memory of their long gone pretender god. The Pilgrim's Way was under the supervision of the guard, but those who strayed away into Greenpath answered to the Moss Knights and the "Law of Unn", as they called it. 

Above them flew a few hundred Fungoons, strange bloated fungal creatures from the noxious catacombs beyond the City, where Vèrt himself originally had come from. Although he had a lot of experience with them from his youth, these beings remained a mystery. There was a strange collective cohesion to their behavior, as they were showcasing even now. There was no way to know how they were able to communicate with each other, yet they moved as a perfectly synchronised mass. Through trunk-like orphases beneath their round eyes they were constantly sucking in air, making their greenish bodies extend and swell, like a bubble about to burst, only to expel the air again in order to move, keeping up with the tain of Giant Pull Beetles. Yet Vèrt heard no conversation amongst them. Even the beasts of Deepnest spoke with each other. The most lowly form of bug could express their desires through sounds. The fungal beings didn't speak at all. They could produce noise, but they were not aimed at each other. They were mimicking sounds that would make their intentions clear to outsiders. But they never seemd to have an issue understanding each other. In fact, he could not recall even one instance where fungal creatures had acted in a way towards each other that would suggest a desire for conflict or clash of interests. They appeared to live in perfect harmony. This strange sense of unity proved useful when ones aims aligned with theirs. He knew too well what happened when they didn't.

Each Giant Pull Beetle had at least one Mantis Warrior on them. Lean and agile, the adults of their species about as tall as Vèrt, most of them didn't wield nails but used their claws to fight. The atrophied blue wings of their youth covered their slender bodies like capes, giving their appearance almost a sense of nobility. Even while sitting down they never lowered their posture, at least not in front of outsiders. The one on their platform was staring ahead, not paying the Protector any heed, her arms slightly raised with her claws hanging down. No One was sitting next to her. Vèrt didn't blame them. If she deemed it necessary, this Mantis Warrior would fight the entire batallion around her to the death. Despite the truce that existed between them, hostility between Hallownest and the Mantises had never truly ceazed. Both sides knew that, if they ever were to clash in total war, the Mantis Tribe would be wiped out. The guard outnumbered them to such a ludicrous degree that even the four Mantis Lords would not be able to save their kind. Granted, it would take an incredible number of casualties, even if the Great Five were to join the conflict. But Hallownest was by far superior in military might. This knowledge however didn't unnerve the Mantis Tribe. They never had let themselves be intimidated by the ever present prospect of their annihilation. Vèrt suspected that they even relished at the thought of it. Such was their way of life. And as savage as their culture was, those who underestimated them rarely got a chance to do so again. When the Mantis Warrior noticed Vèrt staring at her, she only turned her small head towards him to meet his gaze. He banished the thought of looking away from an armed potential foe. They locked eyes. He could feel his entire body stand on edge in response to the open hostility she was emitting towards him. He did not back down. He had faced her kind before and knew that their bloodlust was not as unthinking as one might suspect. The Mantis tribe hated only one thing, and that was weakness. And the only thing they loved more than they hated weakness was the thrill of honorable combat. That thrill was not lost on him, either. The tension in their gaze grew stronger, as Vèrt tightened the grip on his two crooked nails. Each piercing the other with their intent, eyes hungry to catch a single moment of inattentivness to fell the other in one swoop. But just then... the Mantis Warrior simply bowed her head and looked forward again. Her hostility had completely evaporated. Vèrt was still breathing heavily and only now realized that many guards around him had been ready to intervene, hands on their weapons, now quizically looking at each other, wondering if they had misunderstood the situation. He exhaled heavily and calmed himself. Whatever test this had been meant to be, apparently he had passed it.

His gaze wandered back to Hegemol the Protector, General of the guards of Hallownest, as he was standing on the edge of his platform, looking out into the wasteland ahead of them. One of the Five Great Knights, the most powerful warriors in all the kingdom. Their deeds were legend. And all of them were here to fight alongside them. To lead thousands of knights just like himself, bugs of all kinds and sizes, clad in the shimmering blue armor of the city guard. Horned helmets adorned their heads, erasing their characteristics that divided them as species. The only thing that differentiated them now was military rank and function. They were armed with nails, spears and shields, crafted by the Kingdoms finest Nailsmiths. Each of them trained in the style of combat that fit their physiology best, working as units to together become far greater than the sum of their parts. What they each lacked in mandibles or claws, brute strength or size, they made up through training, devotion and equipment. They were the bulwark, protecting the weaker bugs of Hallownest from the horrors that still lurked in its deepest, darkest places. Or those beyond the kingdom's borders.  
  
He had never seen such a massive force united under a single goal. That did not ease his mind, however. It only deepened his concerns.

The Pale King had foreseen the arrival of the swarm, and preparations had been made to counter it. None knew what they were or where they were coming from, but they were said to be each at least as big as an adult transportation Stag beetle, the color of their shells ranging from dark browns to bright greens, with powerful hindlegs to jump huge distances and powerful fangs able to break through shields and shells alike. Apparently some of them could even fly, forming an entire entourage of would be successors and suitors, flying around their massive Swarm Queen, protecting her from danger. The hunger of these beasts was insatiable, and should they reach Hallownest, they would devour everything in their path. Even if they were to be repelled in the tunnels, they could hide somewhere and start breeding, so they had to be stopped in the desolate wastes past the Howling Cliffs. Aside from the Great Five, he doubted anyone else among them had ever ventured this far, for to leave the borders of Hallownest meant risking losing both mind and life, so they had been warned.

The threat must have been considerable for the other tribes to offer their support so willingly. If only the clouds would start to part so they had a better view of th-

His heart froze.

The Mantis Warrior amongst them stood up and started sharpening her claws. So did all the other mantises on the neighboring platforms. Quickly the realization washed over the rest of the guards, as well.

In the silence that now ruled, their senses heightened by fear, they soon started to hear it. The low rumbling of the scurrying of millions of feet on the dry desert floor, the low hum of thousands of wings flapping in the air. The clouds were approaching, and it would take only a few more moments for them to collide.

The one to finally break the silence was the Protector roaring with laughter. It was hearty and honest, and there was no fear in it.  
“Get ready!”, sounded the order, and the spell was lifted. Armor was donned, weapons drawn, wings unfurled. They were ready.

Vèrt looked around him. He swelled with pride at the look of his comrades. Shining armor and nails, the Hallownest Crest proudly displayed on shields and banners, grim determination in their eyes. The bugs whom he had helped become knights, the bugs with whom he lived together, the bugs with whom he would gladly die together. They did not welcome death, but they knew what they were fighting for. Not a single one of these beasts would sully Hallownest’s sacred ground.  
Not while they drew breath.

To death! For Hallownest! For the Queen! For the King!

All fear and doubts left him. A gentle cool glow filled his heart, and everything around him seemed to stand still, as if existence itself was trying to show him the meaning hidden in every moment...

...Wait...  
He knew this sensation. But-

“There he is”, said the Protector, looking back towards Hallownest. As one, the knights turned around.

A star was rising.

Brilliant and pure, from the earth into the sky. It ascended over the Howling Cliffs, twisted once in the air and started growing as it came closer. In moments the star had swollen so much it was illuminating the entire valley. With unimaginable speed it was approaching until it had caught up to the train of Giant Pull Beetles. None could avert their gaze, even though it hurt to directly look at it.

And soon they could see it. Like a shooting star with unfurled transparent wings, the almost microscopical form that flew directly at the swarm. But even at this distance, they knew what was coming.

Hot tears ran down Vèrt’s face. Others were on their knees sobbing. For a moment the star was just above them, then it had already passed. Like being ripped from a dream you would never want to wake up from, they extended their hands. Faint cries of reverence rang out, pleas to not leave them, prayers of adoration.

The star flew directly into the clouds, and a cataclysmic sound rang throughout the desert. Pillars of sharp white light sparked out from it, and hundreds of beasts fell. With a fury of its own the clouds engulfed the star, only to be smitten further by its might.

Cheers started erupting from everywhere. Banners were presented, weapons raised, horns blown. Even Vèrt could not help but join in the ecstasy.

He had come!

To fight alongside His humble servants! He wanted to stay by His side! He would follow Him to the end of the world!  
“My King! My King!”, he continued screaming, tears still running down his face.  
“My King!”, he screamed, just like the first time he had seen Him when he was but a hatchling. And he remembered why he had become a knight all these years ago.

“Stop gawking you idiots, or are we supposed to let our King do all the work?!”, rang the voice of the Protector through the adoring screams.

“ **NO!** ”, it rang back from everywhere.

“Good. Don’t forget your orders, he is watching! For Hallownest! For the Pale King!”

“ **FOR HALLOWNEST! FOR THE PALE KING!** ”

The flyers took to the skies, while the Giant Pull Beetles continued forward. Vèrt drew his nails and leaped into the air, after the star he had been following all his life. One beast had the audacity to stand in his way! He drew back and-

.  
.  
.

“Sir, wake up.”

He immediately opened his eyes and got on his feet. The young guard before him twitched at the sudden movement but regained her composure.

“Good evening, Sir.”

“Good evening, Mirk. What did I miss?”, he said while twisting his arms to shake the numbness out of them.

“Two High Sentries wish to talk to you about matters concerning the Pleasure District. That is all.”

“Any news from the Soul Sanctum?”

“None as of yet.”

“Hm. Are you sleeping now?”

“No Sir, I already had my rest before waking you up.”

“Good, summon the others, we shall discuss the next steps at supper.”

“As you command”, with a quick bow she turned around and hurried out of the room.

Vèrt was still stretching. His age was starting to wear him down, but if these young ones could endure this, so would he.  
He looked around the almost abandoned barracks. Two other bugs were sleeping, while a third was standing at the door and eying them carefully. His rotund form was leaning against the doorframe, holding with his right hand the hilt of his nail as it was touching the floor with its tip. His left hand was hovering over a burning candle. When Vèrt looked in his direction, he nodded.

“Good evening, General.”

Vèrt did not respond but instead went to his cupboard to pull out a small yellow mushroom.

“Try putting this in your mouth instead of burning yourself, Flèn. It works wonders.”

The guard looked at the mushroom suspiciously but put it in his mouth without hesitation. He immediately grimaced and stood up straight.

“Ah ah, don’t spit it out. It’s quite nutritious, and the sour taste will keep you on your feet for sure.” He smiled and patted the round bug on the shoulder.

The guard was holding back a tear but managed to return the smile and nod.  
“Thank you, Sir.”

“No worries”, said Vèrt while arranging his bed neatly, tucking the sheets together. That’s when he realized he was still holding it.

He looked down.  
A star with unfurled wings and a spiked crown. Since the Pale King rarely walked among His subjects, catching even a glimpse of Him was an honor many held dear their entire lives. In order to help them focus their devotion towards him in His absence, many tried to create King's Idols, small statues of the Pale King that they prayed to and kept in their homemade shrines. No two King's Idols were alike, for to even look at the Pale King overloaded ones senses to such an extent that no one truly knew His complete features and characteristics. They were not needed to worship him anyway, for who could truly ever dream of comprehending His majesty in His entirety. Each Idol reflected what the carver saw in their ruler when they made it. The only constant charateristic was that the Kings Idol was pure brilliant white. Vèrt gazed upon his own. They were advised to hold onto them while sleeping. It helped clear their minds.

He hesitated for a moment.

Then he put it in his pocket, finished making the bed and walked out of the room.

There were things to be done.


	2. Distress

"You can’t be serious!"

Mirk stood up and slammed her helmet with such force onto the table that a few goblets toppled. Vèrt was suddenly very happy that he had already picked up his pint of fungus ale. Under normal circumstances he would have disciplined his captain immediately for such an outburst, especially since the message had been delivered to him, not her. Then again, he knew that, under normal circumstances, she never would have acted this way. So he decided to keep quiet and observe, for the time being. He needed a few moments to process this himself.

He let his gaze wander around the old training hall. Ever since most of the guard had been concentrated in the city, it had been repurposed into a giant dining chamber, filled with tables and banks that were now lined with hundreds of knights, their dark blue armor shimmering and shifting like a sea of liquid metal. Nails and shields of varying shapes and sizes were lining the walls, while platforms that would normally be used for the training of flying maneuvers hung suspended from chains from the ceiling, they too stacked with winged guards eagerly taking in their food and drink. One of the few commodities they had left was the cornucopia of nourishments, ranging from Greenpath plants to various types of fungi to meat, hunted from all over the kingdom, even as far as Deepnest.

It was one of the first orders Vèrt had given after being chosen by his comrades as the General of the guard, until any of the Great Five returned, to supply the guard with such untypical luxury. He had not spent a long time under the Teacher's tutelage, but he remembered how she always stressed the importance of tending to ones natural instincts, as well as spiritual enlightenment. Times were uncertain and sleep was scarce, so the bare minimum was for them to be well fed. He could tolerate taxing the supplies a little further, rather than risk losing more of them to despair. He knew he could not continue this forever, but he had hoped that the situation now unfolding in front of him had not happened so soon.

A few moments ago they had been enjoying their supper, but an energy had overtaken them all now that they had heard what the Pleasure District demanded of them. None had raised their voices quite like Mirk just did, but he felt that most of them would have wanted to. A few were heatedly talking to each other, but most had turned their complaints towards the two giant forms clad in dark red armor standing right before the table were Vèrt and Mirk were sitting. 

And towards these two Mirk continued:

"They are demanding we give them how many provisions?!" There was no shock in her eyes, Vèrt noticed. Mirk was not surprised by this demand, she was angry. Her wings had unfurled and were slightly trembling as she stood her own against the High Sentries that were easily 4 times her size each. The one that had delivered the demand only now turned his head slowly towards Mirk and looked down at her with something Vèrt could only describe as a slight annoyance.

"As we just told the General, the lords of the Pleasure District demand the necessary provisions they would need to sustain themselves for the next cycle. After this period, or if anything should change, the High Sentries will be sent out to deliver you your next orders."

Vèrt brought the pint to his lips but hesitated for a second:

"Since you will be able to come freely, you are excluded from the lockdown, I take it. Why is that, Hunch?"

The High Sentry turned towards Vèrt again. He remembered these two from their time in the City Guard, before they had been called to work under the lords directly. Only the strongest and most physically imposing were picked, for these attributes and these alone. Teaching them the proper discipline and nimbleness that was required for their appointed duty was no easy task but it resulted in them becoming the finest and most capable of all knights in the city. Their incredible speed betrayed their bulking size and swift was the demise of those who would dare to bring harm to the nobility. Their status and apparent superiority filled them with a well-deserved sense of pride. Vèrt knew that it was not easy for them, though. They were standing perfectly erect, but he could see their fatigue weighing their massive forms down. They would never let that openly show, though.

Hunch shared for a moment an understanding look with his former instructor.

"Waste of resources, Sir", he stated dryly. There was no complaint in his answer. Only a stoic sense of duty.

"Aha", Vèrt answered and started drinking. The perfect textbook response, as was to be expected. He was uncertain whether he should be proud or sad for them. Mostly, he felt tired.

Mirk, on the other hand, was starting to become furious:

"Are you even listening to what you are saying? If they have their way, all of the other districts will soon follow. We will have to completely empty the City Storerooms and use all of us to carry provisions for who knows how long!"

Hunch met her fury with professional calm:

"So you have the bugs and the provisions necessary to fulfill this task. Or are you trying to defy the will of the lords?"

At that, the hall immediately changed its air. An accusation of disobedience was a very serious charge to be lowered against one. But as Vèrt had feared, not all seemed too appalled by what Hunch had just said. Some grew even more antagonistic.

He sighed into his pint. Things had changed. He remembered a time where such an order would have been barely met with a question, let alone opposition. He knew he should step in, but something told him to wait. He felt that there was something to be gained by observing them for a little longer. Until he finished his pint, at least. Which he was in no hurry to do.

Mirk certainly was not intimidated by the underlying threat:

"The City Guard is overwatching the distribution of the resources stored within the City Storerooms, by order of the Watcher himself! It is our responsibility to make sure that they are handled properly! The Pleasure District lacks the facilities to keep such an amount of provisions properly stored, they will spoil. Then they will request more! What if the city stays locked down for longer than anticipated and bugs start staving?"

This time the one next to Hunch responded:

"We heard that your mushroom gathering near the Fungal Wastes is progressing, so most of the populace should be expected to survive. There should be no problem. If the lords need more resources, it would only be proper for them to get them. We need to obey the lords, Captain."

As far as Vèrt could sense, there were two groups forming in the hall: Most were shocked, angry and frightened. This last statement, however, had given form to an underlying feeling that had been on everyone's mind since the beginning:

It did not matter what they themselves thought of their orders. They had sworn to obey them. Especially in moments of uncertainty, soldiers needed something to hold onto. And that was what many started doing now. Almost blindly, in fact. 

While others held true to what they knew in their mind to be right. This will, this independent spirit was the gift that the Pale King had given to His subjects and was the source of their very beings, it was what differentiated them from common beasts. But he feared that, in the absence of Him, their beacon, these free minds might eventually pave the way to rebellion. He had, after all, saw it happen before.

My King, give me guidance, he thought to himself. Sometimes he wished he could submerge himself into fungus ale and never resurface. The pint was almost empty.

With a concerned look, he turned to the young knight standing next to him, her entire body trembling with rage.

"We can't be sure that it will not start seeping into the fungal borders! We don't know anything for certain!  **We can not risk the common folk so that the highborns can crawl into their spires and gorge themselves to death!** "

“ **Hold your tongue, Captain! Don't forget whom you serve!** "

"And who would that be, Lopuc?"

He did not need to raise his voice, they knew how to recognize their former instructor immediately. The entire hall fell silent.

Both Mirk and Lopuc turned away from each other and towards him. While he licked the foam from his beard, they waited for him to continue.

He slowly put his pint back on the table.

"Well, speak up. Whom do you serve, lad?"

The High Sentry needed only a moment to regain his composure.

"The lords of the city, Sir."

"Wrrrrong. Mind correcting him, Mirk?"

Mirk smirked with certainty as she answered:

"Gladly, Sir! We serve every bug of Hallownest."

"Wrrrrrrong again."

Now it was his turn to smile into the puzzled faces of his knights. He took the moment to look around. The former tension had given way to confusion. He was more than happy to let it defuse the situation.

When he was certain that everyone was paying attention, he continued:

"You are both half correct. We obey the lords of the city, and we protect every bug of Hallownest. But we do not serve any bug. Only one."

He raised a single finger. More was not needed. The realization came over all of them. He could feel how, even the thought of Him, returned life into his old body. How it lifted his spirits and opened his eyes. He looked around. He could see the same passion everywhere. Hope filled him once more. Nothing was yet lost.

"To serve means to be lesser, beneath. But we are all His creations, how could one be beneath or above another? Only He, who lifted us from the filth, deserves our service. We serve the Pale King. We are His nail and shield. We smite His enemies and protect what is His. All of it."

He turned to his captain first:

"I understand your anger, Mirk, but don't confuse agency with disrespect. The common bugs are just as concerned about their own safety as the lords are about theirs. They all have every right to act according to their own interests and it is our responsibility to make sure it is done in a way that doesn’t violate our laws or harms the city as a whole."

Mirk lowered her head, trying to hide her shameful expression.

"Forgive me, Sir. I spoke too rashly and disgraced you by acting out of line. Punish me as you see fit."

She hated it when her temper got the better of her. It was not easy to deal with, but Vèrt knew that once she learned to control herself fully, she would be an excellent successor. After all, he would not be around forever.

"Ah, hush now. Your heart was in the right place. Which leads me to you two!"

With that he turned to the High Sentries:

"Only because you work for the lords doesn't mean you work against the rest of us. I do not care what kind of armor you wear or whether you stand guard at Marissa's stage or at a sewer pipe, you are knights of Hallownest. And these bugs out there are just as deserving of our protection as the most highborn of nobles. Alright?"

For the first time since coming here, the two High Sentries did not look sure of themselves. Lopuc was struggling to respond. He was starting to feel the weight of his words.

"I- I'm sorry, Sir, I did not mean to forget myself like that. We had our orders and-"

"Yeah yeah, I know. I understand your position. It takes quite the guts to deliver bad news to hundreds of armed knights. But we are not your enemies, we are family."

He looked around the hall once more. The tension had now completely vanished. Everyone was more than happy to move on and forget this whole ordeal. They would have the opportunity to think his words over later. For the time being, crisis had been averted.

It was a close call. He continued:

"Now, sit down and eat with the rest, that is an order! I do not care what they feed you over there, go tell the others that from now on the High Sentries will get their provisions from the barracks. As for me, I will visit the Watcher's spire to receive guidance as to how we will respond to the lords' demands. The rest of you, eat up and get back to your posts! And for the Queen's mercy, bring me news from the Soul Sanctum!" Hu turned towards his captain: "Mirk, say sorry and take your food to go."

He didn't wait for a response but took his horned helmet from the table and put it on with two of his hands, while the other two grabbed his crooked nails from his seat and hefted them to his side. He walked to the end of the hall quickly and looked back. Mirk was already standing next to Lopuc and Hunch. They had finally sat down next to their comrades, who had gladly made room for them, while trays of food for the two were being brought in. Vèrt wanted to give them some privacy to settle their dispute. It was hard to tell from the distance, but he could see them talking awkwardly. Mirk did not enjoy apologizing, and the other two did not really know how to in the first place, but they were obviously trying. That was all he had wanted. The rest had returned to their meals, while those who had already long finished were walking or flying out. Vèrt left the room as well, and through the twisting corridors he reached the main entrance of the barracks. There he lingered for a while, stepping out into the constantly falling rain. He watched the guards move past him, greeting him as they came and went, purposefully tending to their tasks.

Almost all noise was being swallowed by the steady melody of the downfall. Since the city had been sealed, the rain had not stopped. Normally the rain gates were only opened when they needed some moisture or to replenish their water reserves but right now it was being used as an additional means of protection. It could not spread through water easily, that much they knew now. Even so, they could never be too careful. They had already lost too many the first time it had happened. If only it had stayed away after the first incursion. But it was pointless to wish for that right now.

He looked out over the hundreds of spires that filled this giant underground chamber and the thousands of smaller buildings huddled next to them. The city was built atop several stone platforms elevated over recessions that were now filled with water. Most of the bridges connecting them together had been destroyed, making movement from district to district almost impossible for those who couldn't fly, and even that was difficult under constant rainfall. Most bugs did not know how to swim so crossing without help could even be deadly. The infected could not swim at all, which was the main reason the bridges had been torn down. It made isolating specific areas possible. Mender Bugs were stationed at certain points to operate makeshift bridges for the few that had the authority to pass, but only a few had any reason to even venture outside anymore. Most preferred to stay dry in the safety of their homes, only coming out to gather their supply packages from the stag stations or prove to the passing patrols that they were not infected.

Vèrt's brow furrowed at the thought of the last time he had come to a household that did not respond when called upon. Thankfully these things did not happen often, but when they did, they were hard to forget. After the third warning, he had broken the front door down. The stench had been immediately apparent. That warm, sick sweetness that was filling the air. Even remembering it, he could feel his head start buzzing. A familiar numbness started to come over him, like a discrete fog slowly filling his mind.

He remembered how he had drawn his nails and proceeded through the rooms, one by one, until he had come to one where he could hear low muttering from inside. The door had been slightly ajar. He had kicked it open and remained in the doorway, weapons at the ready. An elderly looking bug, most likely older than himself, had been standing next to a bed and immediately turned towards the intruder. It had looked like he was trying to shield whoever was lying in it. He had stared directly into Vèrts eyes. Surprise had lingered there for a few moments until it quickly had transformed into a burning hatred. That's when Vèrt had known, that it had been already too late. With unnatural speed, the old bug had charged at him, but Vèrt had cut him down in one swift motion, slicing the shell open and spilling the old bug's guts on the floor. Not before the poor soul had managed to release the scream.

He flinched. Thankfully, not all of them screamed. But those who did were the most dangerous. They were filled with an unreasonable hatred and ferocity that many an unsuspecting guard had fallen victim to. But the most disturbing part of it was that the screams all sounded alike. Not identical, but like something common was erupting from within. As if the very sickness that was taking over their bodies had a voice of its own. He could still see the old bug, the pain and anger in his eyes before they had grown cold. His head started to hurt.

...it was trying to protect its mate...

That was indeed what he had apparently been trying to do. In the bed, Vèrt had found an even older looking bug. She had still been sleeping. He had pulled the sheets away and had raised his nail, ready to strike. Only then she had started to slowly open her eyes. While her husband's had only been hazed, hers were already shining brightly orange, as if filled to the brim with the liquid of the infection.

He gritted his teeth. She must had been infected some time ago, yet her husband had not turned against her. He had stayed by her side. And that is what in the end had doomed him, too. His faithfulness had been his undoing.

...pity...

Yes, it was. She had smiled when she had looked at him. As if she was seeing someone she loved, that she thought to have lost long ago. Tears of joy had started dripping down her face, like thick drops of orange molasses. The sickness changed them all in different ways.

...the old one was mourning her offspring...

And she probably would have never turned violent. But it would have spread through her nonetheless. Vèrt had known that there was no hope for her anymore. All he could give the afflicted was a swift death and pray that the Pale King would accept their souls to His side. She had still been smiling when he had brought down the nail. He had done what he had to.

...no...it should not be this way...

"Begone."

Immediately, his mind was clear again. He was at peace with what he had done. He would never submit to doubt.

He took his King's Idol out of his pocket and gazed at it again. It looked a lot like the Hallownest Crest he was wearing on his breastplate, only that the wings were far more expanded and the crown had seven long spikes that fanned out like a star. He chuckled to himself at the thought of how many sessions of relentless carving it had taken him to create one whose wings were symmetrical and whose spikes had not broken off. Even after all these cycles, it was still a brilliant white. When he was holding it, he could almost again hear the voices of his comrades on that fateful battle. See the star rising above them. The moment that he knew he would give his life for Him. Until the very end.

"Sorry for the delay, they demanded to have a toast!"

Mirk snapped him out of his thoughts as she hurried to his side, the leg of some Deepnest creature held in her left hand. She was still a little flustered from her apology, but she looked somewhat relieved now.

"Ready to fly, Sir!"

Vèrt smiled. Things definitely had changed. They were not as proper as they used to be, nor as organized or tidy. They were all constantly tired. But, they still had spirit. They would endure. The Watcher would have the proper guidance for them. They just needed to endure. They had to.

"Let's go!"

They both opened their wings and took to the air.

  
  
  
  



	3. Future Plans

It had been easier to reach the Watcher's audience chamber than expected. True, Vèrt and Mirk had to cut in line in front of dozens of other bugs, mostly nobels, but the silver Hallownest Seal on Vèrt's chest, showcasing his temporary rank, had all but prevented any opposition. No One was too eager to get to their own appointment it seemed, which begged the question of why they even bothered coming in the first place.

As long as he could remember, all matters of public dispute had been settled here. All laws and edicts concerning the proper function of the kingdom had been written by the Pale King Himself, but since it would have been unthinkable to bother Him with the frivolity of inforcing them properly, the Watcher's Spire had become home to a class of nobility that had devoted themselves to the study and theory of the King's Law and its application. When someone felt they had been wronged by a fellow citizen, or there were differing opinions regarding a certain law and its precise meaning and implementation, they would come here to have their cases judged. Actual acts of violence were rare in the city, so most of these differnces were matters concerning inheritance, defamation, business dealings, taxation, and so on. The absolutely gigantic amount of tablets created in service of this bureucracy that filled the spires baffeled Vèrt, but to each their own, he assumed. Although, since the city had gone into lockdown, the inability to make certain decisions, in the absence of any actual leadership, had led to the extensive use of thin leaf-like sheets made of spider silk to be written upon. They were supposed to record any temporary judgements so as to be reviewed and set in stone after the infection had been pushed back. Vèrt chuckled at the thought that even if the infection were to be stopped right now, he himself would with absolute certainty not live long enough to see them all reviewed. At this rate, even Mirk might not.

Still, the nobility kept making decisions, only for them to be challenged, rewritten, only to be challenged again. In a way, they were holding onto their own routines, just like the guards were. Trying to keep their own little worlds alive and not become idle. Idle minds were the most succeptible to it. As long as it kept them awake, it should not matter how they managed to do it.

Mirk was walking in front of him, trying to pave a path. She gently put her hand on the common bug that was standing first in line, lowering herself a little to be on eye level.  
"Pardon us, but the General has business with the Watcher. May we please pass?"

The small round bug turned around slowly and looked first at Mirk, then at Vèrt. He didn't even seem to register the Seal but once he realized they both were guards, he immediately backed off, lowering his head. It might have looked like he was challenging them with his giant single horn, were it not for the submissive tone of his voice:  
"O-Oh, yes of course, pardon me Sirs- eh I mean, Madam, and dear Si-GENERAL, excuse me General..."

Vèrt hated the undeserved respect bugs had been showing him ever since the Great Five had disappeared. It made him feel guilty, filthy almost. Being praised when knowing how much your superior deserved it more than you, a shame almost too great to bear...

...Wait... How was that any different from the Five being showered with adoration, when they were always so close to the glorious splendor of His Majesty themselves? Must they have not felt the same?

...The Protector...  
...no...  
...Hegemol... What would he have said?

"My my, that is an impressive horn, good fellow! Thicker than my arms, even!"  
Vèrt flexed his right upper arm, twisting it into a shape that would resemble a horn close enough, and lowered himself so as to have his arm stand opposed to the horned bug's horn.  
The bug looked up shocked, but halted when he saw the arm dangling before him. He fixed on it and his expression changed in an instant. A small surge of aggression was beginning to well up within him.

"Base instincts may be redeemed, but never truly forgotten. They reside at the bottom of our souls and are the cornerstone of what makes us truly alive. Otherwise the Pale King would not have bothered with our kind and had made his kingdom only for the mining golems and other soulless constructs," he remembered her saying once.  
In retrospect, he probably should have stayed longer at the Teacher's Archives. 

Once the bug became aware of his own thoughts he stopped himself and looked at Vèrt ashamed, but Vèrt only gazed back with a provocative grin, flexing his arm even harder. They locked eyes for a moment. Then, the same glee seemed to fill the the other bug. He lowered his head and rammed Vèrt's arm with his horn, while Vèrt stroke back. The collision send a tremble going down both their bodies. The little guy packed quite the punch. Vèrt could practically feel the built up tension that the other bug had released into their clash. At least, his fingers certainly would feel it for a little while longer. 

"Not bad at all. What's your name, friend?"

The other one was holding his head, his eyes spinning a little. But he was smiling.  
"Oh, you should have seen me in my prime. Gustle, but my mates call me Gus. Nice to meet ya."  
He extended his hand, but too late he started to remember who he was talking with.

Before he could pull his hand back however, Vèrt reached out and shook it.  
"Pleasure meeting you, Gus. Have you ever thought about offering that horn of yours to the service of our dear King?"

"Oh nonono, General. I'm far too old to enter the guard now."

"Well, should you change your mind, we will be waiting. Compared to me you are quite young, you know."

Gus laughed. It was hearty and deep, quite the surprise coming from such a small stature.  
"Oh, I didn't mean it like that. But thank ya, thank ya, I appreciate it. I do. But I'm quite happy to stay a tram conductor. Ya see, the lads and I are working on a lot of ideas at the moment and I came to have them approved. Once the tramways open up again, we will immediately get to work implementing them. See-through glass walls thick as stone, food carts rolling alongside the walls on small rails- oh, you will not be able to recognise them, I tell ya! Ya ever been on the trams, General?"

"A few times, although I can't say I enjoy them much myself, to be honest. I have always been more of a Stag guy." 

"Oh, traditionalist, I like it. No offence against the Stag Stations of course, they are providing a great service. But I'm telling ya, the Tram Stations are the future! Safe and comfortable travel for whole families! Soon they will cross the entire kingdom, and once that is done, we may even be able to reach beyond Hallownest!" With a sparkle in his eyes he raised his head.  
"Once we are up and running again, ya have to come by. Just tell 'em the "beautiful butterfly" send ya. They will know. Tram Passes for ya and the lady- oh, where are my manners! What's ya name, lass?"

This time he didn't hesitate to reach out his hand, which Mirk gladly shook.  
"Mirk. Nice to meet you, Gus."

"Oh please, the pleasure was all mine. Oh, look at me, chatting ya both to death and keeping ya from your business. Forgive my ramblings. King's Light shine upon ya!"  
With that he stepped back and smiled at them while they entered the chamber.

Mirk and Vèrt returned his gesture and continued. 

King's Light upon us all, Vèrt thought to himself looking back at the little tram conductor. 

Across the chamber a rotund bug was standing guard at the lift leading to the upper floors. He moved to the side to let them both enter.

"Greetings, Sir. Please watch your movements, the lift is in need of repairs."

"Thank you Relsh, we will be careful."  
Once they both stepped into the confines of the lift Vèrt pulled the lever to go upward. The mechanism sprung to life and they were pulled up by chains. Only one more ascend and then they would finally be at their destination. He took the moment to lick his fingers on his right upper arm. That's when he noticed that Mirk was glancing at him and smirking. 

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing, Sir. Only that your methods have as much finesse as those of the White Defender's."

"Insubordination, Captain. I shall have you court-marshaled for selling dear Ogrim short."

She laughed.  
"Guilty as charged!"

They both shared a smile. Those were hard to come by.

Once the lift stopped they proceeded along a hallway and entered another lift to reach the Banquet Hall, where the High Observer should be waiting.

"I hope he gets to run his trams again soon."  
Mirk said in a low voice shortly before they arrived at the top.

"Yeah..."  
Vèrt added as he stepped outside the lift.  
"...me too."


	4. Devotion

"-it is therefore in the committee's best interest to dissolve the assets of "Honey Dew Incorporated" and divide the amount among its shareholders post haste. The largest sum will, of course, stay with the family."

  
The young noble draped in a light green robe with silver buttons paused for a second to extend his hand towards the two rotund female nobles standing opposite to him. The younger one, who was dressed in the deep purple common amongst the nobility, a gleaming Hallownest Crest placed right beneath her neck, was eyeing him annoyedly, while the elder looking wore uncharacteristically white and grey robes, clutching her hands in front of her chest and muttering to herself.

  
The young noble fixed his glasses and stroke in a smooth motion through his spiked hair before he took a deep breath to continue:  
"Lady Veronica was supposed to be heir to a tremendous legacy, and it pains us all that she would have to give it up. But there is no point in postponing the inevitable. This will also allow our dear Mrs Marf to devote herself fully to our beloved King, being assured that her daughter will be well taken care of once she has left."

  
Lady Veronica had enough.  
"By the Lady, could you please stop pretending as if you were doing us a favor, Prash? The shareholders will get their due, but I refuse to allow "HDI" to die. It took generations to establish a connection with the Hive and I will not see this company fall. Never! We are the oldest and largest supplier of honey to the entirety of Hallownest, how can you even consider giving this up? If you had any sense of pride left in you you would understand that, you- you geo-hungry quil pusher!"

  
Prash stood completely still and did not back down from her verbal assault. A low tremble in his voice however betrayed that he was more hurt by her response than he wanted to show:  
"Do you think you are the only one that had devoted themselves to "HDI"? Do you think you are the only one that wanted to see this business succeed? Have you forgotten how the board stayed with you during the first incursion? How you assured us using these exact same words as you are trying to now? But what happened then, Lady Veronica? Once the infection disappeared, did the Hive welcome us back with open arms? Or did they remain shut off? Going as far as to actually attack you yourself when you attempted to approach them? I implore you, look reality in the eye: The company is already dead, Lady Veronica! It ran out of honey a long time ago. Your once tremendous fortune has withered away, how long until it runs out completely trying to support this failed enterprise? Why do you insist on being so... stubborn? When one project fails, one cuts their losses and moves on to the next opportunity."  
His tone was firm, but not devoid of sympathy. "Please, reconsider."

  
Veronica locked eyes with him while shaking her head, but her twisted expression showed that, in some way, she knew that he was correct. At first she seemed like she wanted to lash out at him again, but she thought better of it. Slowly she lowered her head.  
"I can't do it, Prash. I'm sorry for belittling you, but-"

  
She stopped for a moment, then she raised her head again:  
"But you have to understand, this is not about geo. I... will never be part of anything as significant as this. At this point, none of us probably will. Have you actually ever seen it? The look on their faces, when our customers taste honey for the first time in their lives? If you had ever actually worked, even stood, at the front of our stores for a single hour, you would know what we are doing! This company... It is blessed, its work, it is blessed. I am not the only one who thinks that. The workers stand with me on this! Through the first incursion until now they stayed loyal, not because they wanted to live on our meagre payroll, but because they shared this passion. They will never leave, I am sure of that. We will find a way, and if the Pale King is with us, we shall succeed. And if it is his will, we will fail. But I am prepared to take that leap of faith. The board will get their due, but nothing more. And, after all..."

  
She reached out and held onto Mrs Marf, who was still muttering to herself, and turned towards the bug the three of them were standing before in the room, elevated on a podium, to continue:  
"... my mother has the final say about "HDI" and all its associated assets and fortunes. Isn't that correct, High Observer?"

  
The noble standing on the podium was fiercely writing down on a parchment of spider silk in front of him with a quil, while piles of parchment and several stone tablets were lying on his desk, almost obscuring him from sight. He was easily a head shorter than Mirk, and his hair grew sideways out of his head making it look like two horns. He was also wearing the standard deep purple of the nobility.

  
"...Correct... High... Observer... Yes! That is, indeed, correct."

  
With that he put the quil down for a few moments to stretch his right hand, while he picked up one of the several stone tablets with his left and started reading from it:  
"As was set in stone by your ancestors 6 generations ago: "Honey Dew Incorporated" was to be a family run business, where the main branch of the family tree, under matriarch Silven Ashvalley at the time, henceforth known as Silven Honeydew, would, after a congress held at the residence of the patriarch or matriarch of the main branch of the family tree, matriarch Silven Honeydew at the time, come to an agreement with the patriarch or matriarch of the side branch of the family tree, patriarch Morpit Stonevalley at the time, henceforth known as Morpit Honeydrop..."

"Hey, what does "Honey Drop Incorporated" or whatever do again?"  
Vèrt took the opportunity to lean closer to his captain while the High Observer went on his tangent. They had missed their opportunity to interrupt, and all they could do now was wait for them to finish. He could feel that Mirk was starting to get really restless by all this, so he found it was the perfect opportunity to take her mind off things. Besides, he was actually curious about it.

  
Mirk was startled for a moment. Then she eyed him suspiciously and got closer to whisper back:  
"Don't tell me you have never eaten from HDI? Honey Cakes? Honeycombs? You must have eaten honey at some point."

  
"Yes I tried honey sweetened ale once, but that made me almost sick. I can not stand sweetness. Well, not that kind of sweetness anyway. It sticks to your fingers and mouth for hours and you start to hyperventilate... Plus, it was ridiculously expensive."

  
Mirk nodded her head in agreement:  
"Pfffff, oh yes it is. Most common bugs only get to eat it during the great holiday banquets. Which makes it all the more special, in a way. You have to know how much you can take before going nuts, but it is very nutritious and extremely healthy. Plus, I think it tastes fantastic. That ale was almost certainly sweetened by HDI honey, too. Practically all honey in Hallownest comes from the Hive through them. Well, came through them. You should definitely reconsider it, if nothing else than for its health benefits."

  
"You don't say..."

  
Vèrt noticed a strange longing in her eyes. He would make sure to ask the City Storerooms to provide them with what little honey they had left.

"-and as such shall ever remain."

  
With that the High Observer put the tablet back onto the table, while he picked up his quil again and began tipping it in his inkpot.  
"Which means that all of this discussion is in the end meaningless without the input of our dear current matriarch."

  
All turned now towards the hunched over figure in white and grey robes. Both Prash and Veronica were looking at her with a certain kind of impatience, but most of all something that was akin to concern. Whether it was for her, for themselves, or all of them, was not easy to tell.

  
It took her a few moments to stop her muttering, until she finally lowered her hands and raised her head towards the High Observer. Vèrt saw that his prediction had been correct: She was holding her King's Idol.  
„Oh, hello Attie, it is good to see you. I hope we are not disturbing your important work?“

  
Attie lowered his quil and smiled back at the old bug. He must have been about as old as her, even though he had an energy in his movements that would have suggested otherwise.  
„Not at all, Marf. It is always a pleasure to see old friends, even under such... circumstances. Besides, there actually is important work for me to do here. I suppose... you have made up your mind, then?“ As he said this he pointed up and down her robes.

  
„Why yes Attie I have, and I have already wait- Oh! Why, of course! King be praised, Attie! You can help me!“

  
The two other nobles' brows furrowed deeper while Marf looked at Attie expectantly. The High Observer was locking eyes with her, but slowly tilted his head to the side:  
„Heeelp... with what, Marf?“

  
„You can tell me how much HDI is worth, correct? And how much geo I own overall as well?“

  
Attie glanced for a moment over the stone tablets and spider silk parchments on his desk. Checked a few of them, muttering to himself as if working down a mental list, before he responded:  
„Yes, I suppose I could, Marf, but what I really wish to hear from you is: Why do you need that information? What do you want to do with your fortune? That is the actual question on everyone's mind.“

Prash and Veronica held their breaths.

  
„Well, if you would ask me what I wanted to do... I wish to liquidate my own fortune as well as my company’s-“

  
„Mother, you can't just-!“

  
„-and give everything to the Pale King.“

  
„Mrs Marf, I beg of you-!“

  
Prash and Veronica were struggling to find the right words.

The first to continue was Veronica, who placed both hands on her mother's shoulders:  
„Mother, we have talked about this! You can't just abandon...“ She stopped. The accusation of betrayal was clear to see in her eyes:  
„Why are you doing this to me?“

  
Marf smiled and clasped her daughter's cheek with her left hand:  
„Oh my sweet Veronica, I would never abandon you. You will have more than enough to start your own new venture once I am gone. I am of no help to you anymore anyway. You will never be lacking anything.“

  
„I do not care about that I-! ... I thought HDI meant something to you as well...“

„My sweet child, it does. It always will. But I finally see now. The life we lived, all of us. Thinking only about how much geo we made, what we would eat next... Look where it got us. Look what happened to our beautiful Hallownest! We should have seen the truth after the first plague, but nooo, we continued on our path. And we were punished for our sins! You can still come with me, Veronica. Let go! Let go of everything that is holding you down and come with me! Don the robes of the King as well and together we will go down to the White Palace!“

  
Tears of anger ran down her face, but Veronica wasn’t making any attempts to escape her mother’s touch:  
„The White Palace is gone, mother! Wherever the Pale King is now, we can not follow him!“

  
Marf shook her head, as if she was talking to an unreasonable child:  
„We must not lose faith, Veronica. No One can see the paths the Pale King has foreseen but himself. I have not much time left, so I will go first.“

  
She took her daughter's face in both her hands and kissed her on the forehead:  
„You are young and passionate... But at some point you will see things clearly. And if the Pale King wills it, I will be waiting for you to join me.“

  
„Mrs Marf, please...“

  
Prash had been doing calculations on a counting frame, and with each result his shell had turned paler and paler. He was struggling to not loose his composure.:  
„Mrs Marf, as-as your chief accountant, I must say this, this amount...“

  
He finished doing a final calculation and froze in place.

  
„What am I supposed to say to the board?“

  
Marf seemed genuinely untouched by his panic.  
„Prash my boy, that is basic finances. They can deduct their claim from their coming offerings to the Pale King. This geo is not lost to them. In fact once we reopen the city to the rest of Hallownest, more geo will start flowing in, reducing the value of it overall. Meaning that an offering done now will actually rise in worth, making it a sound investment.“

  
Prash chuckled.  
„You have not talked to the board in quite some time, have you? They will not simply let it slide if they were to be completely denied their claims. They may not do anything to you, no no no... but they will never forget this. Your daughter will have to face their retribution forever. And not to mention what they may end up doing to me! They do not care about offerings, nor about what happens when the city reopens. As far as they are concerned, all three of us could drop dead! They want their geo, and they want it now!“

  
Prash was breathing heavily but this outburst had eased his tension and he started to calm down. His gaze became softer.  
„They... they are not like you two.“

  
He looked at the two of them and lowered his head. Veronica looked at him for a while longer, than back at her mother. While Marf tried responding to him, but didn't seem to find the right way to.

Vèrt sighed. They were certain things he would never be truly able to understand. Like how some could forsake every biological desire and give everything to King and Nest. Or how some others could choose to devote their entire lives to the production of sweets or the management of other bug's fortunes. But he had learned to understand a lot of things that were left unsaid. And from the way these three looked at each other... he could see that, in happier times, they had considered each other friends.

Marf eventually turned towards Attie:  
„Attie, what is required of a Royal Retainer?“

  
The High Observer had been keeping up with their discussion a lot easier this time around and was currently looking at the three of them with slight curiosity more than anything else, resting his chin in his left palm. Who knew how many situations just like this he had overseen recently.

  
„There is no clear requirement on how to become a Royal Retainer, since the final choice is the King's to make. But this prayer is what is considered to be their creed: A true servant gives all for the Kingdom. Let Hallownest's Pale King relieve you of your burden.“

  
„Exactly… That means I have to give everything away, otherwise I can never be a true servant...“

  
„Well...“

  
Attie started picking up a few fresh sheets and started quickly writing on them.

  
„Not... necessarily...“

  
The three nobles looked at him curiously. The one to muster her courage first was Veronica:  
„What are you writing, if I may ask?“

  
„My decision, of course.“

  
Before they could make an argument, Attie finished and pointed towards Marf:  
„Marf Honeydew, the Watcher's Spire admires your devotion to our dear King and supports your decision to give yourself fully to him. However, due to the current circumstances, with the lift to the Ancient Basin being out of order and the infection still at large, considering as well your advanced age, a trip down to search for the White Palace would be folly. Therefore you will remain here to wait until the lockdown is lifted and the infection dealt with, which is also when your personal wealth will be redistributed.“

  
He turned the quil towards Veronica:  
„As Veronica Honeydew has pointed out however, the enterprise „Honey Dew Incorporated“ is a great service to our dear Hallownest, doing the King's work in ensuring occupation to a lot of hardworking bugs, as well as providing such valuable and, might I add, delicious products to our dear populace, while also being crucial for Hallownest-Hive relations, that it simply being liquidated would be a great loss. Therefore the company itself will be offered in its entirety to the city as an offering to the Pale King, continuing its work but in the service of the kingdom. Veronica Honeydew will still remain as the manager of „Honey Dew Incorporated“, as well as all that wish to stay in their current occupation spaces. The details on how the profits will be redistributed will be discussed once the lockdown is lifted and the infection dealt with.“

  
Lastly he turned to Prash:  
„Finally, Marf Honeydew's personal wealth will be shared between her former colleagues. Prash Leaffolder will be in charge of the sum as her chief accountant. However, since she won’t be leaving for the time being, this will wait until the lockdown is lifted and the infection dealt with.“

The High Observer was already putting seals on the various documents, without waiting for them to respond. The three nobles didn't seem upset by the decree, but not really satisfied either. The first to express his objections was Prash:  
„So you are essentially telling us to wait for things to change and continue as now until then.“

  
Attie was putting the final touches on his documents, more focused on his work than the room:  
„...Precisely...“

  
Prash was annoyed by this rude indifference:  
„And what if that doesn't happen?“

The High Observer immediately stopped.

As he slowly raised his eyes, his quil still at the place he had been writing, an ink puddle already forming, he eyed all three of them. Then he smiled, put down the quil, crossed his hands beneath his chin and rested it on top.

  
Slowly he started to speak again:  
„If things don't change, my friend, then all this...“

  
He opened his hands and moved his palms outward, first only hovering over the desk in front of him but ultimately raising them to his sides and pointing at the walls and ceiling, while he was looking around. The chamber was spacious, with giant chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, entire swarms of Lumafly nesting in them. The walls were completely made of glass, the Hallownest Crest proudly displayed through the window frames twisting in unnatural patterns, looking more like pictures than framework. Already at this height the Watcher's Spire was overlooking the entire city, dwarfing even the other giant towers around it. The steady downpour was obscuring their visions, but even that wasn’t enough to hide the gigantic scale of the city. The heart of the kingdom of Hallownest.

  
Finally, his gaze returned to them:

  
„... **All** of it... is pointless anyway.“

A somber realization washed over them. Prash’s annoyed expression vanished as his eyes turned wide. Veronica’s gaze became distant, while Marf raised her King’s Idol again to her chest and started humming her prayers noticeably louder than before. Any objections they might have had were now forgotten.

Attie himself did not seem to be affected by the grave air he had introduced to the room:  
“Well then, please move to the side and fill out your forms. And also don't forget to call in the next waiting in line on your way out.“

  
He handed them a few parchments, which the three meekly accepted (Veronica both her own and her mother’s) and slowly walked to the sides where there were two tables waiting, while he himself quickly finished his own paperwork.

As soon as they had accepted their documents Mirk had stepped into the room and was rushing towards the podium, while Vèrt slowly followed after her. He could now clearly see the Lumafly glowing faintly, barely illuminating the back of the room, where he could count 15 giant forms filling up the entire room behind Attie. If he hadn't known any better he would have mistaken them for suits of armor lying on the floor.

Mirk was keeping a respectful distance between her and the High Observer and was waiting for him to finish.

  
„Yes, just a moment and I will be with you. Sooo, Mr. Gustl- Oh! A knight of the guard. A Captain, no less.“  
Even without looking at his parchment he was still writing on it.

  
„Yes, High Observer! I present to you the General of the City Guard! We are sorry to cut in line but we have urgent business.“

  
She stepped to the side and saluted towards Vèrt who was now catching up to her. He lowered his head, a gesture that was returned by Attie. His eyes sparked with interest as he leaned closer over his podium:  
“If the General himself is here... you must be seeking the Watcher's guidance!“

  
Without waiting for a response he sprung down and turned towards the forms behind him:  
„Make sure to file these in Bela, And bring fresh ink for the Observer that will take over for me! I am taking a break.“

  
Without a word one of the forms rose up as if awoken from slumber and stepped into the light to gather with slow but aimed movements all of the scattered parchments and tablets. Vèrt could now clearly see one of the famed Watcher Knights, personal enforcers and guards of the Watcher. All 15 of them looked completely identical in his eyes, with their almost spherical shells and the 3 horns on top of their heads, the biggest one growing out in front. Their actual bodies were a little shorter than his but they were easily three times his size in width. Not much was known about them, as most information regarding the Watcher was well guarded. No One really knew where they had originally come from. Some wondered if they were even sentient bugs or just trained beasts, since many claimed they couldn't actually speak. Some speculated that they were not actually alive, but suits of armor animated by some strange force. Vèrt himself had no interest in their secrets. If the Watcher had deemed it unnecessary for them to be known, he would accept that decision and not question it.

  
Attie walked towards the back of the room and as he approached, the other Watcher Knights rolled out of his way:  
„Follow me, if you please. First and foremost I require some information regarding your case. Please answer my questions as precisely as possible.“

  
He started ascending to the next floor without waiting for them to join him. He was easily a head shorter than Mirk and less than half as tall as Vèrt, which made the three of them walking in line look almost comical. He was too excited to notice though. It must have been a long time since he had to handle a case like this:  
„What do you wish to ask the Watcher?“

  
Vèrt awkwardly leaned over Mirk to get closer to him:  
„The Pleasure District plans to go into lockdown and asks for an entire cycle’s worth of provisions.“

  
Attie sighed:  
„I am actually surprised it took that long for one of the districts to pull such a stunt. This is indeed a problem... The cascading side effects could be immense... Are more or less than half of the City Storerooms empty as of now?“

  
Vèrt glanced down at Mirk. She always informed him about the various logistics he had to know, but they were still her responsibility, and as such, hers to announce. She took the hint immediately:  
„More, Sir.“

  
„Have any of the Great Five returned?“

  
„No, Sir.“

  
„Has there been an increase or decrease in cases? Proportionately to the citizenry left.“

  
This took Mirk a little while to calculate. In the meantime they came upon a hallway leading to a room filled with chests and other items they had apparently been gathering. Tapestries lined the walls, but the thing that stood out the most were the portraits hanging next to the staircase leading even higher. They were drawn so close to life that Vèrt immediately recognised Attie being portrayed in the biggest of them.

Once they continued their ascend, Mirk spoke once more:  
„A slow decrease, Sir. But we have to remember that there are not many easily affected left at this point.“

  
„Indeed. Has there been any case of violent civil unrest?“

  
„You mean like infected in the streets? There were some-“

  
„No no, Captain, I mean revolts. Street Fighting. Rebellion.“

  
Mirk was actually shocked to hear that kind of proposition. These things were unheard of in the heart of Hallownest. Vèrt himself could not actually remember it ever happening during his own lifetime either.  
„No Sir, of course not! Do you think...?“

  
„These are strange times, child. Never underestimate what desperation can do to bugs.“

They once again stepped out into a big hall, the Observatory, as they called it.  
Vèrt immediately took the opportunity to stretch, while Mirk followed beside him a little slower, still processing what the High Observer had said. Most of the walls here were made of glass, providing a good view of the entire city. Around them a number of bugs dressed similarly to Attie were gathering and filing parchments, discussing with each other over reports given to them by the guards, while others were looking over the city using handheld monoculars. These were the Observers, assistants to the Watcher. They gathered and filed information for him, kept watch over the city with him and also handled public cases of lesser importance. Among them Attie may have been the oldest, which you couldn't tell by the way they carried themselves. Their fatigue was clearly visible in the sluggish way they went about their business, which made the High Observer look almost youthful in comparison to them. He was not too thrilled to see that:  
„Well well well! I take my eyes off you and this is what I return to?!“

  
Immediately the room livened up, but besides that the other Observers did not pay him any heed. They continued with their tasks, only looking a little less tired and moving a little bit quicker. Attie was apparently satisfied with that:  
„One of you take my place, I will be on break for a little while! Please, this way.“

  
With the last words he moved towards a lift and urged Vèrt and Mirk to follow:  
„I am deeply sorry for all these hiccups, General. They do tend to slack off when not supervised as of late... Step in, we are almost there.“

  
Attie fit in without an issue, but once Mirk and Vèrt entered the three had barely any room left. Vèrt awkwardly shifted his lower right arm back around his upper arms to pull the lever that operated these lifts. The sound of chains rattling was heard and they started ascending.

As they were out of sight of the other Observers, Attie continued:  
„Have there been cases of cannibalism?“

  
The High Observer certainly didn’t beat around the bush much. Vèrt looked at Mirk as she absentmindedly slowly nodded and responded:  
„Yes... But so far, they were not because of hunger.“

  
„Has the infection leaked into the city itself?“

  
Mirk gulped.  
„As far as we know, no.“

Vèrt avoided discussing his plans with the rest of the guard. If one really knew about the current circumstances, things were looking very grim. Granted, they could have been much worse. But that was always the case. Mirk had been gathering this intel for him and it must have been hard for her to keep it all to herself. He did not envy her position, but she had to learn to carry this burden. They were running out of time.

At this moment they ascended past a statue placed in the wall in the form of the Watcher. It looked straight out into the city. Attie followed it for a brief moment with his eyes while they ascended past it. Then he continued:  
„One final question, and pardon my directness:”

  
He turned around towards the both of them:

  
“ Are you hearing it?“

Vèrt and Mirk froze in place.

Nobody talked about this openly, yet they immediately knew what he meant. Apparently a lot of bugs had started hearing a voice in their head. Some said this was the ancient nature of the bugs themselves talking to them, trying to break free now that the Pale King was absent, beckoning them to submit to their instincts and return to being beasts. Others said this was a sinister entity preying on the weak minded, mayhaps the fabled „Red Court“ stalking their nightmares. Some said those who heard the voices were heretics who had resorted to consuming Lifeblood, believing it would save them, but turning mad instead. Vèrt would have considered it a figment of imagination, born of stress and fatigue, the subconscious urging them to snap. But he had seen too many close to being infected battering their own heads bloody, some even clawing their eyes out, screaming for the voice to stop. Few would ever confess to it out of fear of the implications, but he was sure that most, if not all, were hearing it. He himself included.

Vèrt was the first to answer:  
„Sometimes. I feel a fog covering my mind and a voice… suggesting things. But it is only faintly and easily dismissed.“

Attie’s gaze lingered for a while longer on him. After a few heartbeats he turned to Mirk. She looked up when he did. Until then she had been looking down.

It took Vèrt all his willpower to not intervene. The High Observer had no right to demand such information from a member of the guard. Their wellbeing was his responsibility alone, yet he never forced any of them to reveal to him the things they rather wouldn’t. But Mirk was aware of all of that. It would be her decision to make. It had to. Because, if he was being honest with himself, the only real reason he wanted them to stop was because he dreaded what she might answer.

Mirk met Attie’s gaze with professional calm:  
“I have nightmares about it every time I sleep.”

Vèrt felt his chest tighten. He was furious. Furious at himself. If even his closest officer was suffering alone like this, who knew how many more of his knights were in pain? He had lost so many already. Wasn’t everyone supposed to be precious to him? Yet he couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to most of them.  
He did not dare to look at Mirk. The guilt was his alone to bear. Searching for forgiveness in her eyes would only end up making her feel guilty for being true to herself. He would bear it.

Attie did not break eye contact with Mirk :  
“You know who you are talking to, correct? What would happen if I were to find you to be a danger to the city?”

“With all due respect, Sir, I do not care about what you judge me to be. You asked me a question and I answered.”

She looked up at Vèrt. For a moment, he hesitated. Then he turned towards her.

From the moment she had enlisted she had stood out to him. After a lifetime of experience, Vèrt had to admit to himself that he hadn’t always been the greatest judge of character. What he always had had an exceptional feeling for however was potential. And hers had been immediately apparent. To succeed wasn’t enough, she always had aimed to excel. In that regard she had reminded him of himself in his youth. Where the source of his drive was however devotion, he never had understood what hers was. Which is precisely why he had chosen her as his successor. There were many things he would never be able to understand. He used to be afraid of that. But avoiding the unknown didn’t make it any less real. It simply made oneself too weak to face it when the time came to confront it. Or too late to save a loved one from their own folly.  
To his surprise, she was smiling. A heavy shadow lay over her young face and it only now occurred to him that she may feel even more tired than he himself. There was pride in her eyes, as well as something that may have been akin to... guilt.

Mirk turned towards Attie again with a confident smile:  
“I wasn’t trained to be afraid of the consequences of my actions, Sir.”

In that moment the lift halted.  
They had reached the top.

The High Observer looked at the both of them. Then he smiled at Vèrt:  
“You have excellent underlings, General.”

In the limited space left in the lift, Vèrt could only twist his head to turn towards his captain. He could still remember when he had knighted her. How she and her class was kneeling before him, in front of the entire city's populace, nobles and commoners alike, the Pale King and Whie Lady residing over the moment, the Great Five standing before them, one of the few instances they ever visited the city together. He had witnessed their progress and would vouch for any of them with his life. The fruit of his labor, trained and honed to lethal precision and discipline. All their struggles had been worth it. And the entire kingdom, even the King Himself, was there to show them the respect they rightfully deserved...

He put his left upper hand on Mirk's shoulder. 

...Yet when he had finished his anointment and had told them to rise, as Knights of Hallownest... When they raised their heads, teary eyes filled with gratitude and pride... the one they first looked up to was not King or Queen, or their family cheering for them from the honorary seats. It was, every time and without fail... him.

“I am humbled by them every time anew.”

The High Observer turned around and got out of the lift. As if nothing had transpired at all:  
“Master Lurien! You have visitors.”


	5. Lurien

“The General wishes to know how to deal with increased demands for provisions from the Pleasure District.”  
Attie continued into the chamber and approached a few finely crafted boxes deeper into it.  
“His Captain is with him. No need to worry, they are both still trustworthy.”

Vèrt turned around and saw a lone telescope pointing through the window out into the city. This room was situated just under the top of the Watcher’s Spire, rising above all other structures around it. Its walls were made of glass, with drapes placed at certain places so the inside could be hidden from sight, if necessary. Not that it was currently needed, as it was very dark in this room. Vèrt could only make out a few details. His sight was not what it used to be. Mirk was standing in front of him as if expecting him to stay close to her.  
“Watch your step, Sir.”

She pointed at 2 stone tablets lying on the ground before her feet. She moved around them and waited for Vèrt to catch up to her. 

He nodded and smiled to himself as he followed. Humbled every time indeed.

Only a handful of bugs had ever been allowed access to the Watcher's outlook. Then again, just like Vèrt had realised the first time he had entered this place, there was not much to be gleaned from it. If not for the pile of tablets written by the Watcher himself, the room was mostly empty. A few chests and cupboards, several candlesticks. That was all he could make out as of now. 

“One moment please, the Observers are not allowed access here so the candles tend to burn out...”  
The clicking of a candlestick being shifted was heard.  
“Don’t be alarmed, Master Lurien, it will get a little bright right… now.”

A light flickered to life deeper into the room, right next to a rustic stone platform. As soon as the candle was lit, Attie started going through the stone tablets, muttering to himself. Vèrt turned to the side to appreciate a painting of the cityscape. Among the many talents the Watcher possessed, the fine arts were not one most anticipated. Were it his close advisors or his beloved city, the Watcher loved to capture moments in his pictures. While others that painted did so to express concepts and feelings, the Watcher’s art was almost cold in its precision. Vèrt concentrated on the dimly lit spires in the portrait. There was no rain in the picture, which was a welcome sight. But the longer he looked at it, the more details he started to make out. Silhouettes forming against windows, microscopical Lumaflies gathering around lanterns, two guards patrolling the streets… Wait. He knew this section of the city and which squad was responsible for it. He focused on the two guards… their difference in height, the forms of their helmets… What about their weapons?… 

“...Unbelievable...”  
A shield and a nail, while the other carried a spear. He knew these two. They used to be inseparable since training. He taught them how to cooperate and cover each others blind spots. He remembered how the one with the shield always used to drag the other one into trouble… And Lo and behold, in the portrait the one with the shield looked like he was the one talking excitedly, arms raised and flailing around, while the slightly tilted head of the other seemed to suggest scepticism. If he focused more, he almost thought he would start hearing their conversation-

“Impressive, is it not?”

Attie’s comment snapped him out of his focus. Vèrt only now realised that his face was almost touching the canvas.  
“Yes, quite! ... This moment… It actually happened, didn’t it?”

Attie smiled while he nodded:  
“Nothing can escape the Master’s gaze. And once he has seen it, it never leaves his memory. These pictures are 100% lifelike, I can guarantee you that. But alas, he was not yet able to create his magnum opus, a picture able to truthfully capture our dear King in all his many faceted glorious splendor. Though I am certain that, eventually, you will be able to capture the Pale King’s majesty on canvas, right Master?”

Without waiting for a response he continued rummaging through the tablets.

Mirk had not entered this place before. She had been slowly stepping closer to the stone platform and was now right next to it. Faint light shimmered around it, weaving in and out of sight, while attaining a pattern to it that made it look like it had been drawn. Her attention was fixed on this altar like structure. And on the form that was lying on top of it.

Vèrt stepped next to her. 

Lurien the Watcher.

Highest among all the nobility in Hallownest. Steward of the city and chief executive below only King and Queen. Most devout of all the Pale King’s people. His form did not suggest any majesty. A blue robe covered the entirety of his body, while he himself was a little shorter than Vèrt. He wore a white mask with a single gaping hole in the middle. No One knew what he looked like beneath. Some bugs wore masks, though at times it was difficult to tell. According to Vèrt’s experience, it was usually those whose ancestors had only been recently enlightened, but a select few did so in order to hide a terrible and powerful nature. Monomon the Teacher as well as the despised Queen of Beasts wore masks as well, and he dreaded to imagine what true nature they were concealing beneath them.  
He had known the Watcher only briefly. The most terrifying thing about him had been the depth of his knowledge regarding almost all aspects of the kingdom’s dealings. How many times the guard had been gathering intel, slowly and painstakingly, only to be presented a decree by the Watcher. A decree that showcased that he already knew more than them and apparently hadn’t bothered to assist their efforts sooner. It wasn’t his place to question the decisions of those above him. Although he never forgot the names of his comrades that had fallen in line of duty because of these machinations. He could only pray that it had not been in vain.

Vèrt bore no grudge towards him, however. Because when the time had come, Lurien the Watcher hadn’t hesitated to impose the same sacrifices on himself that he would have demanded of them. He had been ready to give everything for King and Nest. One could only hope that it was enough.

Attie had apparently found what he had been looking for and turned towards them. He inhaled but stopped when he saw the two staring. He stepped close and looked at the Watcher, then at them. Mirk noticed and turned towards him with concern. He however waited expectantly to hear what she had to say, completely at ease.

“High Observer, may I ask you something?”

“Gladly.”

“Do you think… he can still hear us?”

Attie smiled sadly and turned towards his Master. His hand approached him, but the light around the platform shimmered to life. It was transparent, but he could not move through it. He touched the light as if it was a cocoon of glass. It didn’t appear to hurt him, however:  
“Well, if anyone could, it would be him. I sure hope he does. Otherwise I will have to retell him everything again once he wakes up.”

The Watcher lay completely still, but from the smell it was obvious that he wasn’t dead. He had been asleep for quite some time already. For how much exactly was hard to tell. No One really knew how the first incursion had been halted. Only that it had required an immense sacrifice. Lurien the Watcher had taken part in a ritual that had put him to sleep, alongside Monomon the Teacher and Herrah the Beast. Their finest were guarding their sleeping masters, and powerful enchantments were placed upon them so nobody would be able to even lay a finger on them. 

Vèrt’s brow furrowed. The High Observer was being hopeful, but not completely unreasonable. And precisely that was the problem.  
If the Watcher had sacrificed himself to banish the infection once and for all, there would be no coming back for either. But this was different. The Watcher was still alive. And, as they knew now, the infection was still active as well. A lot less potent than the last time, but nevertheless still present. It was as if their attempts had been to suppress the infection, not to eradicate it.  
How long ago was that actually? It had to have been multiple cycles, but Vèrt could almost swear it was just recently that the Pale King had re emerged from the White Palace to build the fountain in the city centre. But that would be impossible, how could even He built an entire sculpture in such a short time? Yet, he remembered witnessing the procedure from start to finish, without ever taking a rest, in what felt now like a single moment.

His head started to hurt. He would have to go to sleep again soon.

Attie sighed:  
“Anyhow, there you are, General! Section Cenda is what you are looking for.”

He raised the stone tablet towards Vèrt, who accepted it with a nod. It was impressive how much information the Watcher was able to place in a single slab of stone. The writings intertwined and weaved between each other, overlapping in certain places where they would reference multiple entries at once, saving a lot of space but making it almost impossible for someone uninitiated to decipher their meaning.

“Take heed for this is my parting gift to the city I love. Although the future eludes my vision, I have done my best to provide for the uncertainties yet to come. Do not follow my edicts blindly, but apply them guided by the same light that made me conceive of them.

My word is not gospel, but by the grace of His Majesty, it is law. Nothing short of His wisdom shall overrule mine. That is the burden of trust that our King has laid upon me. Disobedience is heresy. The reward for heresy is death. Death is a mercy, for to live as a traitor is the harshest punishment a soul could bear. 

What follows is my guidance towards the city's administrators should there be an issue regarding the distribution of supplies. It shall have credence under the following circumstances:

The Pale King has not returned

The White Lady has not returned

The Five Great Knights’ fates are still uncertain

The Teacher lays sleeping

The city is under lockdown

A single district has called for an extensive amount of provisions

The city guard is still operable 

More than half the City Store Rooms are empty

Not more than three quarters of the City Store Rooms are empty…”

It never ceased to amaze Vèrt how meticulous and thorough the bureaucracy in the city was. Judging by the amount of tablets lying around this chamber, the Watcher had indeed put a lot of thought into each of them. Even more amazing was the High Observer for being able to keep track of his master’s orders. He let his mind wander while he read over the other conditions listed on the tablet and thought of their next move.

He was certain that the Watcher would not condone the nobility's wishes. It still angered him that he had to go through these motions. In order to effectively stand against their unreasonable demands, it was necessary to call back on the Watcher’s orders, but he was losing time. The City Store Rooms being more than half empty wasn’t actually a problem, at least not yet. The full capacity of them was immense, being able to provide for generations, combined with the fact that the population of the city had been decimated several times over in comparison to pre-infection times. As long as the provisions remained stored and distributed properly, provided the guard was capable of ensuring their transportation, they should not starve. He had a feeling that, if things would continue like this, they would not survive long enough for that to happen.

The only authority left that he could turn to, besides his own, was the Soul Sanctum. While the Teacher had concerned herself with all matters regarding the secrets of their world, the scholars of the Soul Sanctum had devoted themselves to a solitary lifestyle in order to ponder upon the nature of “soul”. The animating force that resided in every being. Their spire was a fountain of knowledge and discussion and over the years they had made many discoveries. From the study of ancient moth practices regarding sleep and meditation, to the consumption of various substances to properly bolster one's health, the Soul Sanctum did not shy away from new findings, ever progressing their theories on the origin and purpose of the “soul”, only to arrive again where they had started and for their discussions to begin anew.

Granted, their openness had led them down dangerous paths at times. For example when they had been experimenting with Lifeblood, before it being forbidden. But it was undeniable that they had much to offer. In the beginning of the infection, the Pale King had summoned to his side not only Monomon the Teacher and Lurien the Watcher, but the Master of the Soul Sanctum as well. After a short while however, the Soul Master had apparently been dismissed and had not resurfaced after returning to his spire. Ever since then, things had changed. The Soul Sanctum had locked its doors. No One entered and no One left. Their status allowed them to deny entry to anyone, even the guards, as the initiates of the scholars functioned as their proxy personal force, substituting official military presence. Although Vèrt suspected that these initiates knew how to wield a broom better than a nail.

Only when the infection was originally halted did the Soul Sanctum reopen again. To everyone's surprise, not a single one of the scholars appeared to have been infected. Which led to many bugs flocking to them, seeking shelter and guidance. The troubling thing is, the guards were still denied entry. Vèrt had heard rumors that the scholars’ numbers had dwindled during the first infection, but there was no way to prove it without actually entering the Soul Sanctum and doing a proper head count. But from all his sources he knew that there had been no signs of infection inside the Soul Sanctum. 

He gripped the tablet in his hands harder. Many times he had asked for an audience, only to be denied every time. The Soul Master would never allow him to inspect his spire. There was no proper cause to warrant an override of their privileges, but he knew that they were hiding something. He had to know what was going on. And if he couldn’t do that, he needed to thwart whatever they were planning.

But what could it be? What had they been doing ever since the infection had started? Why were apparently none of them infected? Did they discover something that could stop it? Why would they keep it to themselves? Why would they gather so many bugs to their side?

Had they found a means to stop the Infection and intended now to use it to their advantage?

Vèrt’s brow furrowed. He was not satisfied with that answer. There had to be more to it. He never was the most imaginative bug, but even he could tell that this sounded ridiculous. If the Infection could be beaten using whatever means the Soul Master possessed, why would the Pale King not have wanted him by His side? The scholars of the Soul Sanctum had always been an odd bunch, but their institution was a respectable one. Their spire was right next to the Watcher’s, they had proved their devotion time and time again, there had to be a reason for their stubbornness to-

“Well, that was a waste of time. As suspected.”

Mirk’s dry comment pulled Vèrt out of his thoughts. She had apparently already finished reading the decree, levitating in the air behind him and peeking over his shoulder. He was just reaching the conclusion:

“Should all these criteria be met, my orders are as follows:

Management of the provisions are the responsibility of the City Guard. Each household or spire is to be provided with only the means to sustain themselves temporarily, not indefinitely. The guard has to make sure that there arises no situation where there may be an issue regarding the provision of nourishment for the populace. This is of utmost importance.”

Vèrt sighed. What a thrilling conclusion to such a long winded process. But, protocol was protocol.

Attie had been writing the decree on a parchment of spider silk while they were reading it and handed it over to them, with the seal of the Watcher imprinted on it to prove its validity. He apparently already knew by heart what was written on each tablet. He bowed slightly to Mirk as he reached it over to her, a gesture which she returned once she landed back on the ground and accepted it.  
“There you go. This should be enough to silence your opposition for the time being.”

“Thank you, High Observer. And excuse us for wasting your precious time.”

“Nonsense. Do not apologize to a bureaucrat for having them do their job.”

He smiled and bowed to Vèrt as well:  
“It was a pleasure, General. King’s light shine upon you.”

Vèrt replied absentmindedly with a nod, but was still fixated on the tablet:  
“You as well. And thank you.”

“No need to thank me...”

Attie turned towards the sleeping figure on the cold stone altar.

“This is my duty.”

He slowly stepped closer to it and after lingering his gaze upon his Master for a little longer, Attie slowly started lighting all the candles in the room.

Mirk stashed the parchment and started already walking towards the elevator. Her mood had drastically lifted:  
“Well then, shall we go back, Sir? Let’s not keep their ‘excellencies’ waiting.”

“I am sorry to delay your fun, but they will have to wait a little longer.”

Mirk stopped in her tracks and turned back to look at him quizzically. Vèrt looked up from the tablet and smirked:  
“There is one other place we need to visit first.”


End file.
